On small portions and tickets to the theatre.

As much as living alone and away from my family gets to me sometimes- I remember all the stuff I can do now that I'm only me and it brings me some comfort. At home, making a small three-person portion of pasta with roasted red pepper cream sauce was unheard of. Going to the theatre was a tedious endeavor that involved rushing, and rounding together family members and trying to arrange transportation for five(+). It's nice to only have to worry about myself sometimes. I'm a loner, dottie. A rebel.

On wishing for wet handprints.

My mother's hands were always wet when I was a child. Perhaps not always, but that's the way it seems in retrospect. Wether it was from cooking, cleaning, or giving one of her children a bath; the notebook by the phone was always left with little finger smudges. My school reports always corrected with dripping pencil in hand. A thorough inspection of swollen tonsils under our working kitchen light, left my cheeks dripping. Random embraces left perfect handprints settling into my clothes. I know my adolescent eyes must have rolled, if I'd only known what a comforting memory it turned out to be.